


A Dragon's Tale

by Dedica



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Violence, Dragon Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Mage Katsuki Yuuri, Minor Character Death, Murder, Possessive Victor Nikiforov, Trial by Combat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-14 23:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dedica/pseuds/Dedica
Summary: After being arrested for the use of magic and murder, Yuuri knew he was going to die. He'd thought he'd made peace with it. He'd thought he was ready. Until he heardhisvoice.Or the Dragon, Mage, Soulmate AU no one asked for.





	1. The Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my amazing betas [KatsuCrizz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatsuCrizz/pseuds/KatsuCrizz) and [rinablanket](https://rinablanket.tumblr.com/)! Without you two this fic wouldn't be what it is. <3

Yuuri was ready to die.  
  
He’d made peace with his impending death the moment the cold iron cuffs bound his wrists, sealing his fate and his magic. No one had bothered to stop the guards when they hauled Yuuri’s half-conscious body from the estate. In fact, they had looked relieved. Every time Yuuri closed his eyes he could see the look of loathing on the townspeople’s faces as the guards dragged him through the streets.  
  
People had thrown rocks and called him awful names. Now Yuuri could hear those same hateful words echoing off the tunnel’s stone walls. _Heretic. Murderer. Demon. Warlock._ Yuuri could feel the crowd’s thirst for blood – his blood – beyond the mouth of the tunnel. He was weak from his time in prison, but the guards didn’t care as they half carried his weak body towards the arena.  
  
When he’d been arrested, not even Yuuko, his best friend from childhood, had done anything to help him. She’d looked at him like all the others did, half in shock and half in fear of what he was. 

The only person who’d known Yuuri’s secret had been his sister. She had been there the day Yuuri’s powers manifested.  
  
They had been in the backfield of their grandmother’s farm, playing in the treehouse their grandfather had built their father when he was a child. The treehouse was old and smelled of damp, rotting wood. Their grandmother had warned them to avoid going up there, but the siblings didn’t listen. When the floorboards gave out, Mari fell from an impressive height.  
  
Yuuri remembered screaming and looking down through the hole his sister had just created. He remembered seeing her crumpled on the ground, her limbs splayed about at unnatural angles. No one saw Mari's fall or heard Yuuri’s calls for help. Blood had pooled around Mari’s tiny broken body, staining the surrounding tall grass a deep crimson. Then Yuuri had blacked out.  
  
When he came to, he didn’t remember much. Only that one moment Mari looked like she was on the brink of death and the next she was cradling her brothers’ body to her chest, begging him to calm down. Yuuri hadn’t remembered climbing down or making a pact with some otherworldly being, but his sister insisted that he must have. It was impossible for him to have access to such strong magic otherwise. From that moment on, Yuuri had a well of powers that seemed to flow through him like a livewire.  
  
At first, his magic had frightened him. He’d been so young, and Mari had warned him to never speak of what happened that day to anyone. She’d made him promise never to use his powers again and she wouldn’t let him go till he’d sworn it.  
  
In the beginning, the magic was impossible to control. It was so strong that it hurt Yuuri to not use it. It overwhelmed his senses, begging to be released. In those early years, his magic was unpredictable and would act up whenever Yuuri felt any strong emotions. Yuuri had to keep his feelings in check at all times so his magic would remain a secret. Frankly, Yuuri was lucky to have lived as long as he had.

As the years passed, Yuuri managed to learn how to control his powers and his emotions. For the most part, Yuuri had lived a normal, mundane existence. Life had been hard, but Yuuri found comfort in the thought that he’d never have a reason to use his magic again. So long as he remained in control of his powers, there would be no way anyone would find out about his secret.  
  
The practice of raw magic had been outlawed in the Northwestern Kingdoms for generations. In the past, the whole world was used as the battlefield for the war between the warlocks and the alchemists. The warlocks’ access to raw magic had tipped the scales in their favour for decades and it appeared the Nine Kingdoms would fall to their rule. That was until the alchemists created weapons that could repel and suppress magic. It was only thanks to those inventions that the alchemists were victorious in the end.

It took many years for the Kingdoms to enter this age of peace. Occasionally a warlock would be found in hiding or attempted to overthrow one of the Nine Kings, but the alchemists would always swoop in to save the day.

Tales of evil warlocks were common bedtime stories parents would use to warn their children about the corruption of raw magic.  The common belief was that all warlocks were evil by nature and thus a threat to society. But Yuuri had never felt evil and Mari had never treated him differently.  
  
Yuuri had truly believed he’d be able to take his secret to the grave – until the epidemic.  
  
When both Mari and their mother got sick with influenza, Yuuri had begged his sister to let him heal them both with his magic. He knew he could do it, but Mari had slapped him and yelled at him not to. Yuuri regretted not saving them every day.  
  
Mari had convinced him that the alchemists would find a cure for the sickness before anyone would die from it. But she had been wrong. By the time Yuuri had the chance to do something to save their lives, it was too late.  
  
His father had gone into severe debt to get his wife and daughter the experimental treatments that were supposed to heal them, and when they didn’t work, he’d drank himself to death. He left Yuuri without a family and with more debt than he could possibly pay off in his lifetime.  
  
Yuuri didn’t know how dire his family’s situation had been until after his father’s death. He’d been in debt for years without anyone in the family knowing and that debt had grown exponentially after the epidemic.  
  
It was the day after his father's funeral that Barron Vahines came knocking to collect the insurmountable debt. He’d demanded half of what Yuuri’s father had owed him and when Yuuri couldn’t pay, the Barron took ownership of the only thing Yuuri had left – himself.

Yuuri was forced into indentured servitude until his family’s balance had been paid. The Barron ran a tight household and Yuuri had to learn quickly what was expected of him. In the beginning, Yuuri had been assigned to the kitchens, where he’d peeled more potatoes and scrubbed more pots in a week than he’d ever owned in his family’s inn.

Yuuri hadn’t really minded kitchen duty. The work had been draining but nonetheless familiar. Every night, when his head hit the pillow, he’d been too exhausted to grieve the loss of his family and his freedom.  
  
The other servants had been kind to him. They’d helped him get acclimatized to his new life, and they’d welcomed him into their makeshift family with open arms. The same arms that only months later had held him down as the Baroness screamed for the guards to arrest her son's killer.  
  
Yuuri was ready to die.  
  
He knew that without his magic he didn’t stand a chance at winning his trial. He hadn’t asked for a trial by combat, but he knew that’s what awaited him as the sunlight from beyond the tunnel grew brighter, blinding him, and the crowd’s screams got louder, deafening him.  
  
The two guards had him sandwiched between them, holding onto his forearms so tightly that his cold hands were going numb from the lack of blood flow. He’d been in the palace dungeons for only a few weeks, but it felt so much longer.  
  
In that time, nothing but the rats, the guards, and the damp stone walls kept him company. From within his cell there was no light – except for the twice-daily occurrence when the iron slit in the door opened and a food tray was slid through to give Yuuri his meals. The food was half rotten and barely edible. At first, Yuuri had left the moulding bread and dirty porridge untouched on the trays. That lasted only two days before the guards came in and forced the rancid food down his throat.  
  
Yuuri learned quickly that if his tray didn’t come back empty, there would be hell to pay. For weeks, Yuuri ate what little he could stomach and dumped the rest in the corner of the cell that he’d used to relieve himself.  
  
His cell didn’t have a mirror, but he didn’t need one to know that he looked as bad as he smelled. In those weeks in prison, Yuuri’s body was slowly reduced to skin, and bones, and filth.  
  
Sometime after the first month of imprisonment, Yuuri had accepted that he wasn’t going to make it out of the arena alive. Even if he managed to somehow beat the King’s Champion, he didn’t have a life to go back to. He’d still be indebted to the Baron and he’d still be hated and feared by his town. There wasn’t a living soul that loved or cared for him.  
  
After so many weeks in the dark, the sunlight streaming through the open roof of the arena blinded Yuuri. He couldn’t bear to look up at the faces of the people that would witness his death. Instead, he focused on the guard’s grip on his arms and the hot sand beneath his bare feet.  
  
Before him the sand was a bright white, reflecting the sunlight above. Although it burned his eyes, Yuuri thought the blinding sand would be better to focus on than the people that called for his head. Even though his powers were nullified by his shackles, Yuuri could feel his magic trying to lash out to protect him. He needed to stay calm. Yuuri knew he was going to die, and he refused to become the monster they thought he was in his final moments.  
  
Mari used to love dragging Yuuri to the arena. She thirsted for the accused’s blood as much as the next, except for when the prisoner was charged for magic use. The crowds would go ballistic, praying to the gods that they’d serve justice. The prisoners accused of murder or magic use always looked the dirtiest and most malnourished. Fitting with those being the two worst crimes in the eyes of the law. For Yuuri to be accused of both, the crowd wouldn’t be satisfied until he was dead.  
  
Yuuri had seen the blood-stained sands from the arena seats countless times. Seeing the crimson sand now sticking to his own filthy feet brought him to an all-time low. It was one thing knowing he was going to die. It was another to actually walk to his death. 

His senses seemed to go into overdrive all at once. Yuuri had heard of a person’s fight or flight instincts kicking in when they needed it most, but right now every part of Yuuri’s body was thrumming for him to look up and meet the King head-on.  
  
He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t mean to kill the Baron’s son. It was self-defence. He’d never use his magic to hurt people. He only used his magic to heal his sister once. He’d only ever considered using it again to cure his mother and sister. He didn’t deserve to die, but there was no way he’d be able to beat the King’s Champion.  
  
Even if he wasn’t half dead already, he had never held a sword in his life. He was no warrior. The guards would give him a pitiful wooden shield and a dull blade, but neither would do anything against the King’s Champion’s shining golden armour and sword. The King’s Champions all stood undefeated for years. They’d become local celebrities, blessed with the duty to dish out the gods’ justice.  
  
Yuuri could barely keep his eyes open as the King silenced the crowd and began to read out Yuuri’s crimes. When the King asked if Yuuri had a champion that would fight for him, Yuuri remained silent. He refused to address the King or the crowd. When the guard to his right struck him, he barely felt it.

Yuuri was ready to die. 

Until he heard a voice. Strong. Regal.

A voice that held the promise of freedom.  
  
“I’ll be his champion.”  
  
A voice that could only belong to an angel.


	2. The Diplomat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my amazing betas [KatsuCrizz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatsuCrizz/pseuds/KatsuCrizz) and [rinablanket](https://rinablanket.tumblr.com/) for your hard work! <3

The crowd roared as Victor and King JJ entered the arena. Victor fought the urge to roll his eyes as the king waved and blew kisses to his adoring subjects. Of all the kingdoms Victor had visited, Canehda was the worst. Raw magic had been outlawed in the Northwestern Kingdoms for years, making Victor’s trip here seem like a waste of time.

But it was the only kingdom they hadn’t searched yet.  
  
Officially, Victor had been sent as his nation’s diplomat as a show of peace and to negotiate trade. He pretended to feign interest in the other kingdoms’ laws and cultures to report back to his cousin, the King of Rusanna. But Victor and his men had another agenda.

After years of waiting, the Oracle finally gave her blessing for Victor to start his search for his mage. She conveniently could not tell Victor _where_ he would find the mage, but she assured him that his beast would know when the time was right. It had been centuries since the last Dragon King and Mage Queen ruled the Nine Kingdoms, and many believed the Dragon King’s powers to be nothing more than mythos. It was Victor’s destiny to find his other half and reunite the Nine Kingdoms under their rule.  
  
“Welcome, one and all!” The king’s obnoxious voice bellowed out. “And may the trials begin!”  
  
Victor could feel the audience’s calls for blood as the first prisoner was ushered into the arena. Their cheers called to his darker side, the side he’d always fought to suppress. He couldn’t afford to lose his composure this close to the king, so Victor did his best to tune them out. When the king took a seat on the large onyx throne, he motioned for Victor to take the seat next to him.  
  
“Bring the first prisoner forward!” King JJ bellowed as his attendant handed him a scroll and the guards responded by dragging the first prisoner forward. JJ opened the scroll and scanned the contents. “Prisoner 33601, you were arrested by the city guard for assault and for the use of magic. How do you plead to these charges?”  
  
“Not guilty, Your Majesty.”  
  
King JJ smiled a triumphed grin. “Then choose your champion, 33601.”  
  
The prisoner was an average looking middle-aged male dressed in torn and dirty clothes. To everyone else, the prisoner looked completely helpless as he stood between the two guards. Victor was probably the only person present that could see the dark aura that surrounded the prisoner, confirming that this man was, in fact, a warlock. Judging from his aura, Victor knew whomever this man had made a pact with was evil in nature and the prisoner had embraced that new dark side of himself.  
  
"I have no champion." The prisoner's voice shook as he scanned the arena. He looked bone tired, as if he hadn't eaten a substantial meal in months.  
  
“Then prepare yourself for battle, 33601, and may the gods decide your fate justly.”  
  
The mob roared their approval as another guard approached the prisoner with a wooden shield and a pitiful blade. From the other side of the arena, a gigantic beast of a man clad in golden armour emerged from the shadows.  
  
“What do you think of my Champion, Sir Victor? He stands undefeated for the last seven months.” The king’s eyes shimmered with pride as his Champion riled up the crowd further.  
  
Victor could see no aura emanating from the King’s Champion, even though Victor was confident it was impossible for a man to be so large without the use of magic. "Impressive, Your Majesty. The accused doesn't stand a chance."  
  
Victor couldn’t help the quip from leaving his lips. Trials by combat were supposed to be fair. Each prisoner was supposed to have access to equal weapons and armour in order for the trial to be just. The King's Champion, decorated in his shimmering breastplate, looked more like a well-dressed executioner next to his opponent. The prisoner was not given any kind of armour, but Victor guessed that even if he had, the prisoner wouldn’t have the strength to wear it. The weight of the sword and shield alone proved to be too much. When the guards handed the prisoner the weapons, he dropped to the ground and the crowd laughed.

“Remind me again how King Yuri is dealing with the warlock problem in Rusanna?” The king mused, his eyes gleaming as the trumpets blared for the trial to begin.  
  
Victor reigned in his temper as he plastered a smile on his face. “The use of magic is still permitted in Rusanna, Your Majesty.”  
  
King JJ whipped his head towards Victor, missing his Champion’s sword decapitating the prisoner in one swift move. “That’s absurd. Why permit the use of raw magic when there have been so many breakthroughs in the study of alchemy?”  
  
“Our kingdoms practice different customs, Your Majesty.” Victor turned from the king and pretended to be genuinely interested as the second prisoner was dragged into the arena.  
  
The next several trials were all conducted in the same manner. Prisoners of every age and gender were brought forward and accused of using magic. Victor silently confirmed that each prisoner indeed had a dark aura surrounding them, but that didn’t stop anger from boiling his blood. Even though a person could make a pact with an evil creature, it didn't mean that person used magic for malicious purposes.  
  
Warlocks made pacts with powerful beings for different reasons. Some made a pact to protect their loved ones while others made pacts for selfish gain. Although Victor disagreed with the king's views on warlocks, there was nothing he could do. He was just supposed to be a visiting diplomat. He couldn't do anything to hinder the relationship between Canehda and Rusanna. He was here to find his mage, and that was it. Nothing else could justify Victor interfering with the trials. So Victor gritted his teeth and watched as each prisoner pled not guilty and died by the King’s Champion’s sword.  
  
"As always, we have saved the best for last!" The king's voice boomed throughout the arena.

As soon as this prisoner came into view, Victor knew something about him was different. His powers pulsed, honing in on the man below. Instead of having the tainted aura of a warlock, this prisoner’s aura was pure. It called to Victor like a siren. "Prisoner 37229, you are accused of the murder of the young Baron Vahines and for the use of raw magic. How do you plead to these charges?”  
  
Victor watched as the prisoner wrapped his arms around himself and began to shake. When the prisoner did not speak, the guard next to him elbowed him hard in the gut. The loud cheers around them muffled the instinctual growl that reverberated in Victor’s chest. His inner beast was demanding Victor to protect the frail, shaking man in the arena. Puzzled by his beast’s interest in the prisoner, Victor leaned in closer.  
  
Usually, Victor simply ignored his beast’s wishes. After all, without the help of his mate, the beast within was too dangerous to control. But something about the prisoner in the arena called to Victor, and he wanted to find out what.  
  
“He pleads not guilty, Your Majesty.” The guard answered when the prisoner remained silent.  
  
“Then choose your champion, 37229.”  
  
The prisoner had no reaction to the king’s words. He looked on the brink of death, more so than the other prisoners. It appeared the only thing keeping him upright were the guards gripping his arms so hard that Victor could see deep red marks on the man’s skin.

Victor felt his anger swell. The beast responded in kind, its power becoming overwhelming. It took every ounce of Victor’s strength to prevent himself from unleashing the dragon within. Victor tried to slow his breathing, confused at this sudden reaction from his beast to the man below, but matching its fury all the same.

And then it clicked.

There could only be one reason for Victor’s beast to respond this way. There could only be one _person_ that could make his beast respond this way. 

The man below was the one Victor had been searching for.

His mage. His mate. Bound in chains. Sentenced to die. 

 _His mate_.

And his dragon called for vengeance.  
  
Victor stood, his instincts screaming at him to protect, to defend. “I’ll be his champion.”

He could feel the shock of the crowd, the tension from his guards beside him, the king’s confusion. But all of that was secondary to what Victor felt when the man below looked up and met his gaze. The connection between them locked firmly into place, confirming he made the right choice. After years of waiting, he’d finally found him. The moment their eyes met, Victor could feel his mate’s emotions. Fear. Pain. Confusion. All at once, all shouting at him through the link between them. His dragon demanded Victor to continue on, and for once Victor had to agree with the beast. But just as he started to move, the king stood to block his path.

“You can’t be his champion.” The king’s tone was firm. No room for discussion.  
  
Victor had to force himself not to lash out and kill the king in front of everyone. If he wanted to keep his powers a secret, he couldn’t just transform and steal his mate as his beast wanted. He'd have to win this trial fair and square. “Do the rules forbid it?” 

The king turned to his advisor, who looked just as shocked but shook his head. "Not if the prisoner allows it, Your Majesty.”  
  
“But–” King JJ looked between his advisor and Victor. “He is a visiting envoy. What if he dies? I do not want a war with Rusanna.”  
  
“Trust me,” Victor laughed as Georgi stepped forward with Victor’s sword. “My cousin will thank you if your Champion manages to slay me.”  
  
“Didn’t you hear me tell you that he stands undefeated?” King JJ asked, as if to try and scare Victor from fighting.  
  
“Of course I did." Victor unsheathed his blade, and the audience went wild. “I’ll see you shortly.”  
  
King JJ laughed a near maddening sound. “Your hubris will be the death of you. My Champion is double your weight and height. You’ve consigned yourself to your grave, Sir Victor.”  
  
“None of that matters if the gods are on your side, Your Majesty. Or have you forgotten the significance of a trial by combat?” Victor didn’t stick around to hear King JJ’s response as he left the king’s booth and made his way towards the pit.  
  
The closer Victor got to his mate, the harder it became to control himself. His inner beast was screaming to tend to the injured mage and to kill everyone here as retribution for his mate’s mistreatment. Instead, Victor fueled that murderous energy into psyching himself up for battle. His mate’s beautiful gaze never left Victor’s, looking at him with bemusement and wonder.  
  
The elders had warned Victor that the mage's powers were probably still dormant, as only a severely traumatic event could wake the powers of a mage without the help of the Dragon King. From the looks of it, his mate must have gone through something horrible to have wound up in prison for the use of magic. Victor couldn’t remember the other charge the king had declared, and he didn’t care. Even though his powers were nullified by the iron chains, the mage's magical aura thrummed strongly around him. Victor had to fight the pull of his the magic to face the King’s Champion.  
  
“Prepare yourself for battle, Sir Victor, and may the gods decide your fates justly.” King JJ’s voice thundered above the crowd's applause. Victor was handed a shield by one of the king’s guards, but he shook his head and readied his sword. He hated using shields in battle, his beast viewed them as an unnecessary hindrance. Victor hadn’t meant to rile the crowd up further by his refusal, but it had that effect.  
  
The King's Champion laughed and tossed his own shield to the ground, seeming to see Victor's rejection of the added protection as a challenge. The crowd loved it, shouting their excitement in a cacophony of praise and bloodlust.

When the trumpets sounded the start of the trial, the King’s Champion swung for Victor instantly. He was a beast of a man in his own right, and it was clear the King’s Champion was well trained. Not just an executioner, but a fighter with the same arrogance as his beloved king. Victor sidestepped the blow easily, parrying it with a strike of his own. His sword connected with his opponent’s, and sparks flew between the two blades. The spectators roared.  
  
It was clear the crowd favoured the King’s Champion. This kingdom viewed warlocks as the worst kind of evil simply because the priests preached their wickedness.

Victor tuned them out to focus on his opponent. If he listened to their calls, it would be impossible to keep his inner beast caged. Instead, Victor concentrated on finding an opening to end this match quickly. He felt his mate’s injuries and panic as if they were his own. Nothing hurt more than feeling that shared agony. Any pain the King’s Champion could ever imagine inflicting on him was laughable in comparison. With that in mind, Victor didn't feel poorly for not fighting fair.  
  
Victor was faster than the average human and his senses were infused with the magic of the Dragon Kings before him. The moment Victor saw an opening, he did not hesitate. He jabbed his sword up and into his opponent’s throat, instantly painting his golden armour crimson. The King’s Champion was dead before his body hit the bloody sand.  
  
The air around them stilled as all but Victor's men stood, frozen in shock and fear. After every match, Victor had watched the King's Champion bask in his victory. Although his beast revelled in the kill and would want to celebrate his glory, the call of the mage was stronger. His sword, a family heirloom, lay discarded and forgotten in the carnage. Victor only cared to embrace his mate and get them both to safety.  
  
When Victor met his gaze again, his mate was on his knees, gaping at the dead Champion. The guards that had held him upright now cowered into the shadows of the arena. No one stopped Victor as he crossed the arena and knelt down beside his mate.  
  
“What is your name, little one?” Victor went to brush the tears from his mate’s cheeks, but the mage flinched and Victor halted. His mate gaped at him, his eyes wide with blank trepidation.  
  
“Is that him, Drakon?” Georgi asked from behind them, his voice laced with wonderment.  
  
“Yes,” Victor painfully tore his gaze from his mate to stand and regard his Second. “Take him to Anya and Mila. See to it that he is fed, bathed, and brought to my chambers immediately. I must have words with the king.”    
  
Georgi was the only person Victor trusted to care for his mate in his absence. His Second placed a hand over his heart and bowed. “It would be my honour, Drakon.”  
  
It pained Victor not to look back as he left to speak with King JJ. He felt a spike of anxiety trickle down the link between them which only grew with every retreating step Victor took. It was incredibly difficult for Victor not to go back and ease his mate’s worries. His instincts were roaring at him not to leave, to stay and defend. But Victor knew his mate would be safe and well-treated with Georgi and the others. His Dragon practically howled, imploring Victor to reconsider. As usual, Victor ignored the beast.   

Later, Victor would wish he hadn’t.


End file.
